


Human AU

by HeartbreakTerrorBird



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Drug Use, Eugenics, M/M, Masochism, Mental Illness, Racism, References to War, Sadism, Violence, other things that i can't think of rn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27761644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartbreakTerrorBird/pseuds/HeartbreakTerrorBird
Summary: I'll come up with a better name, but here is my SoVar Human AU fic as of so far. It's just drabbles basically. Apologies. It's got a lot of offensive content, Skeksis are shitty people. Not particularly edited and not in chronological order.So is the head of a Japanese drug syndicate that trades a lab-made drug world-wide. Making money is just a side deal to the ruthless kingpin whose primary aim is to use his export to cripple America and China, Japan's enemies and the only thing he perceives as holding them back from ruling the world. He is aided by a merry band of crims, and primarily by his fuck-pig and bodyguard Var, who, despite being American, worships and serves him. This fic is set in roughly 1990's America.
Relationships: skekSo/skekVar (Dark Crystal)
Kudos: 8





	1. Overview

The pad of So's finger traces circles around Var's pink, puckered hole and he shudders. It's always like this, teasing, dragging, pulling him open but never quite penetrating him. It's not that Var wouldn't take So's cock, he's gagging for it- literally and metaphorically- it's that his sadistic master likes to deny him. So he writhes, groans, presses himself against the fingertip only to find it drawing away. So chuckles, his low purring laugh, and takes his bitches cock in his hand to stroke it. Long slow strokes. Var groans. Fuck. He loves this. Loves anything he's given. Young Var would probably be spitting feathers if he knew that he'd grow up to beg a Jap for his cock. It had been learning about the bombing of Pearl Harbour that had got him into the army, and then it had been some business in Grenada and then the Gulf war. Then later Iraq. He never had got to kill a Jap. He'd killed a lot of Arabs though and sucked a lot of soldier's cocks in a lot of exotic locations so it hadn't been all bad. Now here he is, tied up and stretched out on the bed, spreading his legs for a squinty-eyed and mega-rich Jap who is also … his boss. Well, he'd always had something for authority figures. Probably why he's so proud to be an American.

So grins at him, sly and wicked and squeezes and twists his hand around Var's leaking, purpled head. He'll jerk him and watch him beg, make him whimper and then, when he's too horny to resist, the old man will crawl up the bed and sit on his bitch's face. Let Var eat his arse until he cums, dribbling down and spattering his bodyguards face with cum. They both love it.  
"My fat ugly bitch…" So groans, his thumb smearing Var's precum in a circle over his tip.

Var grins a mostly toothless smile. He's missing five of his bottom front teeth. Told everyone that they got destroyed by an IUD but the truth is he was trying to impress a twink he met in a club in New York in the 80's. Told him he could ride a motorcycle. He couldn't. He got on it and drove it straight into the back of a car and smashed his teeth out and flattened his nose. Fucking stupid but it's just another one of his wacky secrets that seems to make him irresistible to his boss. He wears dentures most of time. When he was young he couldn't afford the dentistry and now he can he doesn't care enough to get his jaw drilled into just for some bits of pearly resin. Besides, So loves a blowie and teeth mostly get in the way. Like the rest of his body his mouth is just a sex toy for his master. Like his painfully expensive hairpiece, a lot of his youthful looks are a lie.

He'd always gone for younger men. Little twinks who'd just left home, who you could take round the back of the club and pound them up against a dumpster while they cried about how their daddy didn't love them. Then he'd got this job and he'd just been a low-level bodyguard until the old man had called him in and asked him if he liked coke. He'd said sure, but he hadn't done it since the 90's. After Iraq he'd had a bit of a problem with the white stuff, it was what had given him his snort. Then the old man had asked him if he liked to suck cock, and, well, that had been a surprise. After that he'd learnt a lot about Asians. Mostly that they liked rope stuff. That was hot. Oh, yes. The old man was hot. Maybe not to a lot of people but to an overweight ex-patriot who had lied on his CV about why he'd left the army well… anyway. The old man was hot. 

Yeah, So is gorgeous. 

And filthy.

And incredibly intelligent and nasty as anything.

Delicious.

At first, he'd been horny for him, then he'd respected him, then he adored him, and now? Now he loves him. Loves him in that sappy white picket fence way he'd kind of wished his parents would love each other when he'd been just a stupid little boy. He'd do anything for him, would literally take a bullet for him.

The feeling overwhelms him and he leans up, pursing his lips. So grins, leans over him and obliges him, kissing him. It's chaste and gentle and the old man's pale eyes widen with surprise. Var smiles at him, softly, and then they kiss again, deeper. So lies down on top of him, runs his hands through his sparse, curly black chest hair, down over his stomach and then back up to cup his face. It's tender and surprises both of them but they commit to it. So stretches one sinewy, boney leg over Var's hips and guides his cock inside. Var groans. His master leans down and kisses him again as he begins to rock himself slowly on his lover's cock. They sigh into each other's mouths,  
"Valerie…" So whispers against his lips.

He'd always hated that name, hated his parents for giving it to him. He'd gone by Val for a while but that was girly too, so out of a stupid teenage edginess he'd started calling himself Var. It was kind of a dumb name but it had stuck. Only So knows now what he's really called. Only So coos it to him as they fuck. As they… as they make love.

The old man is going to cum soon. Var can tell from the way his hole clenches and his cock twitches as it rubs against his bulging stomach. So is panting, clinging to his bodyguard for security. Fucking himself to completion on his bitch's fat cock. Var groans and So groans with him, head tipping back. Var sucks on his exposed throat as he cums inside of him. They twitch and spasm together, sticky and wrapped together.  
Var presses kisses down his Master's pale neck, over his pronounced collarbones,  
"I love you," he murmurs against his heart.   
So chuckles,  
"I know you do. I pay you to."  
"I'd do it for free."  
His master chuckles again, propping himself up so he can stare down into Var's wide, toothless, stupid face,   
"I know you would," he purrs, "you pathetic cocksucker."  
And he leans down and kisses him.


	2. God Bless America, God Bless the U S of A

It's averaging thirty-one degrees in the shade and there isn't any shade. In the back of the humvee it's like an oven and Var's glad he shaved his head as it gives more surface area for the sweat to evaporate. He wishes he'd shaved his back too...not to mention his arse-crack.   
"Why does anyone want this fucking shit-hole?" Vincent says, leaning to squint out a small window,  
"Fucking dry as Satan's arsehole out here. Fucking…" he trails off and then pops the cap off his water bottle and drinks deeply. Var grins. Vincent pours a little of his water into his pitch-black hair and hisses,  
"I wish I was bald like you, buddy."   
Var kicks him in the shin,  
"I'm not bald!"  
"A bunch of fucking turban-wearing sand-mexicans and we're what? Toting around out here fighting them? We armed them." Louis pipes up from the back of the car,  
"Shut the fuck up," Var grunts, "we armed half the fucking world. We're just dearming this one country."  
"I mean, fuck Hussein," Louis continues, "but also: I don't give a shit about Kuwait."  
"Now that I agree with." Var grunts.

Even the air smells dry and there's an ozone tinge that he can't place the location of. The sun is high in the sky and shoots great bars of light that stripe the clouds. It's fucking hot. A fat fly gets inside the car and the three men clatter around swearing flapping their hands,  
"Sit down!" The boss yells from the front seats and they sit and glower at the fly in silence. 

They're following a humvee in front and that humvee is following another and they're tracking like three scorched ants over the rocky yellow dirt towards some shithole in the cliffs. They're armed and ready and as far as they know it's going to be a regular check and clear type mission.   
"Hey, Louis," Vincent says, "isn't it your girls' birthday?"  
"Yeah," Louis grins,  
"Cool," Vincent says grinning back, "what did you get her? Some other dudes dick?"  
Louis snarls,  
"Fuck y-"  
And then they're deafened.   
The slight whistle that preceded the bomb hitting had gone unheard.   
They're thrown to the ground, ears ringing and the boss shouts"Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Reverse! Tilly, reverse!"  
And the driver kicks them into reverse speeding back towards the safety of a ravine.   
Var squeezes his hands over his ears, clenches his eyes closed and wakes up.

He swings his feet over the side of the bed and hurries into the shower, turning it on full blast freezing to drown the sweat. He scrubs the stinging sweat out of his eyes with the heel of his hands.

It's… well, it's sometime during the 1990's. That period tends to blend together now. He's been back from Iraq for about five months on compassionate grounds. It turns out if you want to go home early all you need to do is call in an airstrike on your own people.  
"It's unfortunate," the General had said,  
"These errors happen."

This error had been ten good American men. 

He rolls off the futon and scratches his arse crack and takes a long piss that just about goes into the toilet bowl. The blinds on the window are broken but it doesn't matter because he's leaving soon so he yanks them off the wall and chucks them in a heap on the floor. He cleans his teeth and then tries to wash his mouth round with a beer but the beer is empty and so are all the others so he just swallows the foam instead. There's no food but that's fine because there's a burger place about a street away that he can get a bus near so he pulls on some sweats and a vest and stuffs his veterans' card in his pocket and heads out.

He fulfils the American dream by eating two burgers and a side of cheese fries and then adds to it by taking a huge dump in the mum-and-pop's establishment toilet. He leaves a bad tip, which breaks his usual trend but he needs all the cash he can get. He's going to buy a shit tonne of coke because today he has two possible courses of action: either he's overdosing or he's going back to Iraq.

He picks up the coke and then gets antsy on the bus so he snorts a little then and there to soothe his nerves. A little old lady glaring at him makes him more nervous so he snorts a little more. By the time he gets off the bus he's had about a quarter of the bag and he's just about holding himself back from going off the deep end.

The doctor finishes checking him over and says,  
"What have you taken, son?"  
"Nothin'."  
"You're sweating, your pupils are dilated, your heart is going like the clappers- here, son, I'm going to call someone in to help you."

There's a little period then that goes black. The next part is swinging his fists at a pink-faced recruit. The doctor is pinching the bridge of his bloody nose and yelling for more help or for someone to restrain him. Someone else's voice is yelling,  
"I'm gonna kill you! I'm gonna kill myself! I'm gonna kill you!" Over and over again and the doctor is staring at him and saying,  
"Calm down! Calm down!" And he has the bluest eyes Valerie has ever seen.

Then he's going to jail for five years for aggravated assault. It's not that bad and his sentence is shortened because of his circumstances and questions about his mental health but he gets a little added on for the coke, but overall it's not bad. He considers himself very lucky. Prisons OK, it's like the army but less structured and he adjusts quickly. He's a big guy with fight training and experience killing people so nobody fucks with him too much, other than when he wants them to. After a year he has a nice bivvy of prison-pussy and a guy who gets him coke when he needs it, so in the end he quite enjoys himself. 

Coming out of prison is harder than going in. Coming out of prison is the second worst thing to happen to him.

He gets a job but he also gets a crippling drug and alcohol addiction. Then he gets in a car accident, then he gets put back in jail for assault, then he gets officially diagnosed with PTSD. 

'There's a reason you're fucked up' the doctor says and Var wants to fucking nut him because he knows the reason he's fucked up and it's because the United States airforce blew up a bunch of his friends.

He gets medication and would take it but he can't afford it so he goes back to self-medicating with booze and drugs. It's been such a long time that he can't really remember what brought that period to an end. Maybe it was being knocked out cold by that guy he asked to give him HIV, maybe it was the phonecall he drunkenly received from his mom to tell him his dad had died, or maybe it was that he woke up half-frozen on the side of the road to find he'd shit himself? Who knows. But he sat on that curb with no hair, no teeth, no money, and no dignity to his name and decided he was going to leave America. 

The first step was to go home and get sober. That was a fucking nightmare. The second step was to take a bunch of his dad's money and get out of the country. That wasn't too bad. The next four years would be spent country-hopping heading steadily more eastward. He didn't learn much about language or culture but ate a lot of food and got into a lot of fights and in the end wound up in Japan where he… stayed. There weren't that many countries further east that he could go. 

And it's another four years before he meets So (although he'd glimpsed him once before whilst working as a heavy for another Jap).

The old man is dividing up a line on a little table when Valerie brings in the tea,  
"Leave that alone," he chides, "that stuff'll kill you."  
The old man grunts at him dismissively so he puts the tea tray down on the coke.  
"What are you doing?" So roars, "imbecile!"  
"C'mere," Var purrs, pushing him onto his back with one meaty paw.   
He straddles the old man, grinding down on his cock as the old man bares his fake teeth and snarls and scratches at him like a feral cat.  
"C'mon," Var leans down and presses a gentle kiss to his lips, "I've got something else white that you love, and I promise I'll let you take all of it at once."


	3. Pigs

Sometimes he wakes in the night wheezing for breath, still half tangled in an old old memory. Sometimes it is events like these, with the hubbub of family and the warm yellow lights, and the smell of home cooking that brings on the melancholy. So's manicured fingernails tap on the bone china rim of his cup. His face is a cold, waxy mask without emotion, his eyes roll around the room like two glossy marbles. His sister he resents for the ease with which she grapples with life. How she seems to live it, getting older but never fearing the slow encroach of death. He is always thinking about death. But then she did not see it, squirming in the mud in front of her, bleeding out like a stuck pig. She didn't jam a sword into it again and again, she didn't feel the pop of a type fourteen in her hand. She didn't watch men die through the foggy glass of a gas mask. The suffocating rubber of a gas mask. She has had an easy life and an easy life breeds fat and lazy and contented pigs eager to be led to the slaughter. 

He looks away from her and pans his gaze across the room, across his family, restraining himself from a look of contempt. He finds what he seeks. His Inoshishi, no pig but a proud fat boar with sharp tusks and teeth and squinting murderous eyes. He is currently on all fours beneath a small pile of children, snorting and huffing as he carries them in a circle on the bamboo flooring. A sharp pang of jealousy strikes So and slides up through his ribs and into his heart. He does grimace in irritation then. 

His Inoshishi is grinning and laughing and toppling the children onto the floor and letting them climb up onto his back again. Emiko, that traitorous little wretch, wraps her arms around his neck and plants a big kiss on the bald patch on his head. How loathsome, So thinks, What an entitled child. If he had a child he would raise it to be respectful of his elders, not some japering brat. It is horrifying to him that of all the family it is most likely she will inherit his empire. His nephew is too soft in the heart, and the head, and has shamed the family by marrying that blonde-headed white woman. (They are laughing by the food table with their mother and some distant cousins.) And the other children are stupid and lazy and typical of this brainless westernised generation.  
Emiko's face screws up into a look of contempt and she slaps away a little fat cousin as he tries to climb on Var's back. The boy falls on his rump and bursts into tears.  
Good for you, So thinks, Let him cry. The fat little piglet needs to learn that the weak must expect pain.  
Emiko shows no remorse, clinging around Var's neck as he attempts to return her to her profusely apologising parents. They try to take her and she grits her teeth and wraps up tighter like a tentacled sea-beast crushing its prey. They end up tugging on her dress helpless and embarrassed.  
Never apologise for taking what you want, So thinks, watching her with narrowed eyes. 

Perhaps she isn't all bad. She is after all only five. Perhaps by six or seven she will be a worthy heir.

At least she has good taste in men, he thinks, smirking to himself.

Free of his captor, Var is returning to him, pushing his way across the room to be by his master's side. They part for him: the prey know the great wild boar walks among them. He is handsome, broad-shouldered and tall, standing a head above the crowded family. Var smiles when he sees his master is watching him, then conceals it and stands in silence at his master's left hand.  
Good, So thinks, as he smiles over the rim of his cup, narrow-eyed and smug, You are wise, Inoshishi, to never forget your place.


	4. Burden

The old man is naked, spread out in the chair like a white spider, all spindly limbs and a bloated fat belly. His eyes are unfocused, his cock hangs limp and pathetic between his legs. Var stands in the bedroom door and stares at him in silence. Then he heads to the side table and picks up the clear pop packet,  
"How many did you take?"  
So does not answer him.  
Var strides over, pinches his master's sallow, sunken cheeks between finger and thumb and lightly slaps his face,  
"How many?"  
The old man makes a whistling noise. His pupils are black and fat. Var curses. Fucking infuriating. He'd told him to write down what he took and how much.  
He feels for his pulse on his neck. Slow. Very slow. Presses his cauliflower ear to his bony chest.   
"Fuck." He grunts, and he scoops him out of the chair,  
"We're getting dressed. We're going out."

It's like dressing a sex doll. All unhelpful limbs flopping about, and dead weight.  
"I fucking love you." Var snarls from behind his few teeth. (Mostly to convince himself.)  
The old man has begun to drool.  
Var leans down and kisses him angrily and then wipes his mouth for him.  
There's a particular private hospital So uses and Var loads him into the passenger seat and clips him in. They have the drug treatment there on tab. Yes, it's expensive.  
Var's wheezing, (why do they live in a house with so many fucking stairs?) and has to pause and rest against the steering wheel. It's cool and hard and textured and he grinds his flushed red forehead against it for relief, then starts the car.

One thing about Japs is they're neat and efficient. If they weren't the old man would be dead. Var's still pissed off, even as he's washed through with relief. The old man is asleep, on a drip, in the clean lemon-scented hospital room. He stretches out his creaking back in the comfortable chair and stares at the wrinkled old face that he alternatingly adores and is infuriated by. He leaves occasionally to get a coffee and a sandwich (none of that weird rice shit) and spends the rest of his time looking at pictures of little Japanese twinks in some music magazine.   
Once upon a time he would have beat-off furiously to these hairless little boys… now. Now he's old and maybe a bit of a romantic.   
He looks up at the old man in the bed and his eyes crease at the corners.  
Now there is no one else he wants.   
No one but this wrinkled old skeleton. Racist, hateful, rude, Viagra slipping old man. This hollow, drug addict, murderous, rotten bastard.  
"I love you." He says.   
So doesn't respond.  
He stands up and steps to the side of the bed. Crouches down, runs his hand through the old man's thinning black hair.  
"I love you." He whispers into his hair as he presses a kiss to one dry, white cheekbone, "I love you."  
"You stink." So wheezes.  
Var grins and presses a fierce kiss to his forehead.  
"Don't touch me." So wheezes, "Cheap cologne. Your cheap cologne will make me stink. Ugly…" his voice fades away.   
Var kisses him again, tenderly on the lips and So kisses him back.  
"I love you…"


End file.
